


Out of the Storms

by VicenteValtieri



Series: A Thousand Lives Unlived [14]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anger, M/M, Peace, Therapy, Trauma, arranged marriage fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicenteValtieri/pseuds/VicenteValtieri
Summary: Optimus seeks help from Rung for his anger issues after the truth of how Megatron treated his Second comes out.
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Starscream, Ultra Magnus/Megatron
Series: A Thousand Lives Unlived [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/714828
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	Out of the Storms

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, this one is weird. And it's not my greatest. I worked on it while I was on vacation and if the ending seems rushed that's because I was running out of steam and just wanted to finish up the one-shot I had in mind.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy. I might return to this idea later.

Starscream had beat the Prime home again. Optimus shut the door behind him as he came into the main room. The Seeker was somewhere in the kitchen or the crafts room they’d put together out of the extra office, from the noise.

“Hey, there.” Optimus came up behind the Seeker as he leaned intensely over a sparkling toy he was working on. Starscream lifted the gem implantation tool and Optimus put his arms around him for a quick coddle and nuzzle. 

“Hey there yourself.” Starscream leaned back. “It’s almost done.” He was building a mobile for Sunstorm’s impending sparkling. “Just in time too.”

“How many more cycles?” Optimus started digging his thumb digit into the Seeker’s plating, looking for tense knots of wires and plates.

“Four, if the estimations are correct, but Sunstorm’s listening for singing.” Starscream sighed and closed his optics as Optimus stimulated the stressed joints in his wings. Gentle rubbing on that area never failed to make him – 

Optimus chuckled to himself as the Seeker started purring his engines contentedly. Starscream began to lean further back on his stool and against the Prime’s chassis. His optics flickered and his EM field relaxed, threatening recharge. He nuzzled the Seeker’s audial and then patted the wingjoints. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet.”

Starscream shot upright and knocked his elbow into a small container of purple crystals which was closer to the edge than was strictly safe. Optimus lashed out with his servo and caught it at the last second. Both their optics met and they exchanged definite looks of relief. “…That could have been worse.” Optimus set the container safely out of the way. “Evening energon?”

Starscream’s wings were stiff and his optics blown wide. He always had disproportionate reactions to little accidents. After a few moments, it settled in, and he relaxed. “Yes, some energon sounds good.” He stretched his wings. “Good catch.”

“Don’t mind it.” Optimus gently set an arm around Starscream. “Just put the containers further up the counter next time.”

The Seeker leaned into the Prime and nodded. “…I made another batch of silver fudge.”

“My favorite.” Optimus gently twiddled a wing, making the Seeker bat away with the ticklish appendage.

It wasn’t an unheard of solution. Political bondings weren’t uncommon before the war burned out of control. If rumors were to be believed, Sentinel Prime offered one of his own sparklings as Megatron’s bondmate if he would accept a treaty. Megatron had soundly refused if it did happen. 

“And it was a small price to pay for peace, at least in my processor.” Optimus sat uncomfortably in the chair across from Rung. This was more of a last resort than he’d like to admit. He prided himself on being able to speak to other mechs or to solve his problems through either meditation or working through them physically in a training session. “I was prepared to accept any mech if it meant the war would end. Starscream wasn’t – He wasn’t on my list of favorites, but I was ready to take him on.”

“What were you expecting?” Rung asked, taking down a note. “What made Starscream such a terrible idea to you?”

“From all reports, Starscream was a capricious, picky, demanding mech. I expected to be harried and unable to please him no matter what I did.” Optimus pressed his servos into his optics. “And I was willing to live with it, if it meant peace. But that’s so far from what happened…”

Starscream stared at Optimus from across the berth between them, arms folded. The Seeker had been quiet since the Pax Cybertron Ceremony earlier. It didn’t exactly qualify as a bonding ceremony – far grander than any Optimus had attended, and at the same time, somehow lackluster. So many mechs, but almost no celebration. 

The covering was tucked into the end – presumably to keep it clean while they copulated. It was meant as a consideration, but the Prime couldn’t help but feel it was mildly presumptuous. Optimus lifted the berth covering from the foot and pulled it up so it would be easier to reach. Starscream did the same on his side so the covering was still smooth. Then, they went back to their silent staring contest.

“At some point.” Optimus gathered the courage to address his erstwhile mate. “We’re going to have to touch each other.”

Starscream snorted. “If this is going to be a legal bonding, there’s going to have to be more than just touching.”

“We do have some time.” Optimus pointed out. A decacycle of grace time before Ratchet would check their sparks and make sure they were synchronizing. 

The Seeker hesitated, wings waffling a bit in the air. “…Not a lot of time.”

He was clearly as ill-at-ease as Optimus felt. “We only need one cycle before the check-up.” Optimus looked down at the berth. “…I can recharge elsewhere.”

“And how would that look?” Starscream snapped, optics flashing. 

“Or I could simply lie on the floor.” Optimus offered. 

The Seeker’s wings were on him like a laser-guided system. Briefly, the Prime felt he was walking on very, very thin ice. Then, they relaxed a little. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a berth, it won’t fragging bite.” He climbed up onto it and stretched out his legs, wings folding down so he could lie on his side. 

Optimus lifted the covering on his side of the berth and it partially slipped off the Seeker’s frame. He couldn’t help but notice how tense Starscream was holding himself. He appeared relaxed at a first glance, but his plating was practically vibrating with the strain of keeping still. Optimus laid down on his back and risked a glance at the Seeker’s back. He wasn’t moving, not even to pull the covering back over his frame. Careful not to touch plating, Optimus reached over and picked up the edge, pulling it back over Starscream’s shoulder. With his servos clasped delicately at his chassis, he shuttered his optics and prepared to recharge in that position to maintain their respectful distance.

In the morning, Optimus woke to a quiet, unfamiliar sound and a warm frame pressed up against his side. Starscream must have been a restless recharger – he’d turned over in his sleep and cuddled into Optimus’s arm, pillowing his helm on the convoy’s shoulder. Optimus had maintained his position through the night. Briefly, he wasn’t certain what to do. Try to disentangle himself and risk waking the Seeker or just let him rest? He considered, holding his optics shut, and his EM field tangled with Starscream’s resting one. 

The unfamiliar sound intensified as Optimus listened, then calmed down again. What was it? It had to be Starscream, but was that his vents or something else? 

Was it a problem? Optimus couldn’t help the twist in his tanks. Was something wrong with Starscream’s engines and if he brought it up, would the Seeker push him away?

He was navigating a minefield and knew it. He had to be very careful.

Starscream stirred and rolled onto his back, the sound stopped. Perhaps it was positional. There was a snort and whir of vents, and then soft chirping and clicking in Seeker cant as Starscream onlined. Optimus held himself still. If Starscream remembered cuddling into the Prime, he’d be embarrassed if he thought Optimus knew. Minefield. Dangerous. 

The covers were disturbed, slipping down Optimus’s frame, as Starscream got to his pedes, transformation seams creaking as he opened his wings again. The cover was repositioned at Optimus’s chin, and the sound of pedesteps moved away from the berth. So far, so good.

Optimus sat up and heaved a vent of relief. Starscream was in the washracks and they’d made it through the first klickcycle of the morning without any events. He sat up and stretched, running a servo down his face. Then, the sound began to fill the room. Not a noise he’d ever expected to hear. A long, drawn out melody echoing from the washracks. A wordless aria no Grounder would ever understand fully, not even the Matrix-bearer. 

He sat and listened, almost holding his vents. 

“In hindsight, I should probably have been less surprised than I was. I’d let gossip and hearsay shape my expectations.” Optimus tapped his digits on the arm of his chair. “But that first morning… Hearing him sing… It was something special. Even now, I have to cajole him to sing when he knows I’m listening. Maybe that’s why I like the Dawn Aria so much – he sings it in the morning when he doesn’t know I’m awake. It’s the only piece I don’t have to ask him to sing.”

“Does it bother you that he doesn’t want to sing around you?” Rung asked, tapping his stylus gently on the side of his datapad. “Do you think it indicates a lack of trust?”

“To a point. But not for my sake. More that someone or something has convinced him that this beautiful facet of him is worthless or ugly.” Optimus stopped his tapping. “There are a lot of things about himself that I worry he sees as worthless at best, at worst damning.”

“How does that make you feel?” Rung pushed his optical enhancer up a little. 

“How do you think it makes me feel?” Optimus batted back. “It makes me feel weighed down. It makes me feel helpless. Because there’s nothing I can say or do to convince him he’s not.”

“Healing traumas is a long process. Especially engrained traumas.” Rung shifted his position closer to Optimus. “You want to help Starscream. But there’s no easy or immediate answer.”

“…I miss problems I could punch. And I feel a deep sympathy for Sideswipe’s frustrations.” Optimus admitted, smiling slightly at the irony. “And I hate myself for not noticing or realizing sooner…”

Optimus came home from a long, frustrating day of not-much-progress-at-all expecting to find Starscream in a much worse temperament than he was, either sulking or out entirely. He did not expect to come into a neat home with an arrangement of a few artistic crystal points on the table next to a plate of copper fudge. Starscream himself was reading a datapad at one end of the table and stood up when he saw Optimus. 

“…Good evening.” Optimus looked around at the arrangement, stunned. “You’ve been busy.”

“I thought you might want to come home to something more than a basic cube of energon.” Starscream’s voice had a slight edge. 

“Thank you.” Optimus approached a little bit closer and picked up one of the treats. It was melting and smooth in his intake when he bit into it. Every inch as good as he remembered from before the rationing became too strict to allow for goodies. “They’re amazing.”

“Pfft. You should taste Pharma’s gel treats. They’re amazing.” Starscream brushed it off at once. “These are just basic goodies.” Still, there was a pleased gleam in his optics and he relaxed, sitting down once more. 

“I think these are delicious.” Optimus put the other half in his mouth and sat down with the Seeker. “How was your day?”

“Not as bad as some I’ve had recently.” Starscream’s wings flicked out dismissively. “And probably a good deal less frustrating than yours.”

“Only if you call organizing the largest herd of Cybercats I’ve ever seen frustrating.” Optimus rolled his optics and leaned on one servo. “Everyone has a different opinion and no one wants to actually work until things are ‘settled.’”

“Settled? What do you mean by that?” Starscream’s wings went taut even as his optics remained glued to his datapad. 

“There’s some ridiculous idea that the war might reignite if we’re given long enough to think about it.” Optimus replied, blue optics tired. “So, Metalhawk is ever-so-considerately inquiring about the state of the bonds and if we’re experiencing any discomfort over them.”

Starscream’s EM field flared out in a blaze of emotion and tangled anger and disgust. “…I see. Dear Metalhawk, always looking out for other mechs.”

“A regular philanthropist, isn’t he?” Optimus took another piece of fudge and nudged the plate towards Starscream, who took two. “What do you think, two decacycles before he starts hinting at sparklings?”

“That’s generous. He’ll probably start hinting as soon as the decacycle is out.” Starscream snorted. “Pushy mech.”

Optimus snorted as well and a feeling of camaraderie settled over them. “…What do you think of sparklings?” Optimus dared ask after a few moments passed.

“We’re an endangered species – Seekers especially. It would be irresponsible not to have at least a brood.” Starscream paused for a long moment. “…If it’s even possible.”

Optimus lifted his helm a little and his aerials moved forward. “If it’s possible?”

“I couldn’t – Not with someone else.” Starscream folded his servos and looked down. 

“That’s no indication. Sometimes, sparks are just incompatible.” Optimus pointed out.

“We weren’t bonded. It helps if you are.” Starscream twiddled his digits, features schooled and wings lower than normal. “But it could always be a genuine inability.”

“You didn’t consult a medic?”

“I didn’t want to know.” Starscream quietly stated. 

The silence fell between them, thick and heavy, overshadowing the petty frustrations and failures of the day. Optimus took the information in, trying not to let the war raging in his spark show on his faceplates. Without his permission, his battlemask slid over his faceplates, hiding his expression. 

Starscream seemed to shrink at the other end of the table, fading into himself as if in preparation.

Optimus wrestled with himself, wanting to offer some kind of comfort to the Seeker, while simultaneously trying to reconcile himself with the possibility. Every mech had a glimmering hope in their spark: To hold their own sparkling, born in peacetime. To be part of the next generation. It had been a common fantasy for the Prime, though his fantasies had always been vague on who he had the child with or even if it was his own. Surrogacy, adoption… There were options, he reminded himself. The Matrix would keep him from sparking, or he would offer his own frame for it. “There are options.” He finally spoke, voice lower and quieter than normal. 

Starscream’s wings flicked slightly. “…There are options.” He repeated, voice garbled with his vocalizer’s damage. It became more pronounced when he was emotional. 

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Optimus reached for the Seeker’s servos. “There’s still a lot of work to do. …Unencumbered mechs will be needed for a while yet.” Mechs without the time constraint of young sparklings. “By the time things get better, perhaps some other mech will be open to carrying a surrogacy.” 

“Maybe.” Starscream clenched his digits with Optimus’s, almost leaving small dents in the convoy’s servos. 

“Who would you have asked?” Rung asked Optimus when he reached a lull in the session, the Prime staring off into space. 

“I’m sorry?” Optimus’s attention turned back to the therapist and he thought for a moment. “Ah, of course. It hardly matters now, but we were actually approached by Sunstorm – he offered. It was extremely emotional for both of them, obviously.”

“If I recall correctly, Sunstorm and Starscream share a Carrier. Whereas Skywarp and Starscream are full brothers.” Rung took off his enhancer and cleaned the lenses.

“They’re quite close, though it doesn’t always appear so.” Optimus shrugged. “Skywarp made the offer to be kind, but Starscream turned him down. He said Skywarp would never be able to give away one of his sparklings. Not after losing his first ones.” He sighed. “It’s a moot point.”

Optimus woke with Starscream lying against his side again. Though there was something different this time. He’d unclasped his servos and put an arm around the Seeker in the nightcycle. Ever so gently, he ran the pads of his digits over the warm shoulder plating. Aside from holding each other’s servos and occasionally brushing against each other, they’d been very non-tactile so far. While Optimus would have loved nothing better than to ease slowly into a physical relationship, they were on something of a timetable.

He looked down and met red-gold optics, freezing at once. Starscream’s expression was unreadable. Now he’d done it. Only day three and he was about to find himself on the sharp end of Starscream’s notorious glossa and razor personality. 

Starscream and Optimus were both wired tense as they each stared the other down. Optimus slowly began to remove his servo from the Seeker’s shoulder, relaxing his grip carefully. 

Starscream lifted a servo from Optimus’s windshield and his two primary claws slid out. The Prime didn’t dare move. Starscream dipped them into the seam between his windshield and his grille, drawing the flat edge along the armor seam and barely tracing the points over the protoform beneath. Optimus couldn’t decide whether it was meant to be a threat or an invitation.

Then, Starscream lifted the claws and showed Optimus a collection of dust, grit, and tiny insects that had collected in the seam. “…I am not interfacing with someone with that kind of mess in their seams.” He told the Prime, point-blank. “Come on, let’s deal with this.” He pushed himself up and made for the washracks.

Optimus was frozen, processing. First his disgust that his seams had collected that kind of mess – he tried to keep them clean, it was hard when you drove through it everyday. Then, that Starscream had invited him into the washracks.

“Are you coming?” Starscream called, voice tensing. “We can’t take all day.”

Optimus rolled to his pedes and hurried after the Seeker, nervous but unwilling to potentially offend or scare him. “What do you intend to do…?” He asked as he stepped into the wash room. Starscream kept their sink extremely neat. He left a tin of polish, canister of glossy, and stick of black lippaint out and that was it. Optimus had a tin of polish for special occasions in the cabinet. 

“I’m going to preen you.” Starscream pushed the wash stool beneath the solvent and water heads. He was already washing the dust from his claws away. “And don’t fuss about it.”

“Preen?” Optimus asked, stepping beneath the solvent. The situation wasn’t comfortable, but he felt no need to retreat.

“Yes, Preen. Primus, grounders are ignorant.” The Seeker scoffed. “I’m going to clean beneath your seams.” He pointed down at the stool. “Come on.”

Optimus sat down and let Starscream slip his claws into his shoulder seams, edges scraping the panels of armor and tips barely pricking against the protoform and energon lines below. The claws massaged against pieces of himself the Prime didn’t know existed.

It was soothing and he found himself leaning into the claws a little even as he kept in processor how dangerous they could be. He stood up and sat down as Starscream directed, letting him work through every seam. He held his vents as Starscream worked around his neck and intake, and then when he held up those wicked claws in front of his faceplates, he flinched back automatically. 

“Stay still.” Starscream gently supported his helm with the other servo, aiming the tips of his razor-sharp claws for the seam between Optimus’s faceplates and his optical shutters. The Prime held his vents as he dipped them gently into that seam and ran the tips up to the corner, pinching down on something there. He pulled his servo away and showed Optimus a struggling mechanimite. “Be glad I found this little guy before she laid eggs.” He crushed the parasitoid. 

“That’s amazing. Do all Seekers do this?”

“Most do.” Starscream began finishing off the seams around his audials and helm. “We need to keep clean or we’ll stop being able to fly. Delicate systems.”

“It feels amazing.” Optimus rolled his neck obligingly as Starscream approached him from behind again. When the claws touched his audials this time, they felt… Different. It took him a moment to realize Starscream was channeling charge through them and into his protoform. “Starscream - ? What -?”

“There are different ways to preen – Carriers for their sparklings, sparklings amongst each other, and even whole aeries communally preening.” Starscream ran his digits down the Prime’s neckcables. He leaned in close to Optimus’s helm and laved a glossa up his aerial. “This method is specifically for mates.”

“I – Ah – I can see – “ Optimus leaned into the charged touch. 

“Shh… Let me work, Prime.” Starscream continued to tease the aerial with his mouth as his servos worked their way downwards. Optimus’s charge rose startlingly quickly. He tried to turn his helm for a kiss, but Starscream sank out of reach, worshipping along his spinal strut with his glossa. Optimus’s engines rumbled as Starscream teased his claws along the seams in his thighs and hips, lighting up receptors he’d never felt stimulated this way before. 

Starscream pushed against his hips with both servos, standing up and trailing his claws around to Optimus’s front, digging them deep into his grille. Before the Seeker could get away again, Optimus gripped him around the chassis and pulled him in for a kiss – dark and sweet. While the Prime was distracted, Starscream got his claws on the mechanical switch for his modesty panel. Optimus’s spike extended at once against the Seeker’s white thigh and Starscream wrapped a servo around it. Optimus moaned into the kiss and it broke. Before he could grab at the Seeker again, Starscream gracefully sank to his knees. 

Starscream examined the Prime’s spike, purring in approval when he felt the weight and the ridges. Optimus stared down at the Seeker – not knowing what to do or if he should say anything. Starscream seemed absorbed in his task and even the somewhat clinical movements of his delicate servos were enough to bring drops of lubricant out of the transfluid seam. 

It had been a very long time since Optimus had last self-stimulated. Far, far longer since any other mech had laid a servo on him, much less – Oh, Primus. Much less pulled the head of his spike into their intake and began pushing forward.

Starscream twisted his glossa against the line of biolights flashing down the bottom of Optimus’s spike as he moved forward. There was a clear size difference between them – Optimus was so much larger than the Seeker – he would have to stop at some point. He’d be physically unable to move forward, but… There he went. 

“Starscream – “ Optimus gasped when denteas scraped just right against the last ridge. 

Starscream hummed and Optimus choked on his own words, grasping for purchase against the wall and even the Seeker, grabbing onto his shoulders desperately for balance. Starscream made a soft noise and adjusted his position, continuing to push forward until Optimus felt something – probably an intake valve – fluttering at the head of his spike.

There was a long moment, neither of them moving. Optimus lifted his helm back, optics straining as he forced himself not to move forward. When Starscream retreated a few centimeters, he gasped and his engine turned over only for that gasp to become a banshee’s scream when the Seeker pushed back down, past the point he’d reached before, and ended with his nasal vent flush in Optimus’s protoform. 

Optimus let out a guttural yell and almost crushed the Seeker’s armor when he overloaded, transfluid pouring out of him in a rush and down Starscream’s throat. Starscream hummed and swallowed around him until Optimus moaned brokenly and pushed back, collapsing against the wall and sliding down. He grabbed out for the Seeker and pulled him in for a kiss, tasting bitter minerals and hot metal. It was filthy and blazing hot. His interface was pinging again, he couldn’t wait to get his servos on Starscream – 

The moment he broke the kiss, the Seeker twisted away from him. His processor’s hitched at the sudden loss. Starscream wiped his lipplates. “We have to get on with things. See you tonight.” He sauntered out and left Optimus reeling.

Optimus clawed his way to his pedes, processor still whirling and frame tense with unspent charge. His spike was stiff again and his interface throbbed. He fisted himself and fragged into his servo, painting some of the wall silver white. Confused, lonely, and strangely ashamed, he cleaned it up and dried off. 

Beside the door on a table was a cube of energon and copper fudge wrapped and tied together like a gift. He picked it up and subspaced it, following Starscream to the administration building.

“From what you’ve told me, it seems clear Starscream learned to avoid interfacing.” Rung considered for a long moment. 

Optimus was silent for a long moment, servo on his faceplates as he hunched over. “He does that sort of thing, even now, when he gets worried.”

“It likely has nothing to do with you, Optimus.” Rung pointed out. “But rather with someone in his past who made it unpleasant for him.”

“’Likely?’” Optimus’s optics burned as he pulled his digits away from them. “Try ‘absolutely certain.’”

Exhaustion and frustration characterized Optimus’s days overseeing the new peace. Factions had broken out even among the factionless, and everyone was always arguing over it. He came home exhausted again and was less surprised to come home to a perfect, but empty house. Energon was waiting for him at his place at the table, but the washer had a cube in it already and Starscream was nowhere to be found.

Optimus sat down and rubbed his forehelm and temples. He’d hoped to catch the Seeker, but it seemed he’d gone out. They needed to talk. At least, that was the idea of the decacycle of grace: Get to know each other. Not that certain others had needed it.

Speaking of, Ultra Magnus was contacting him. Optimus paused as he opened the cube of energon. “Magnus, it’s good to hear from you.” He tapped his audial out of habit. “Do you need something?”

“We merely wanted to know if you and Starscream were available for evening energon.” Ultra Magnus replied. These invitations were never simple when it came to Ultra Magnus. He didn’t do social activities unless he wanted to check on someone or needed something done. 

Optimus sighed. But he had nothing else to do. “Starscream is not here and I don’t have his comm frequency.”

“Megatron has commed Starscream, he was forced to leave a message.” Magnus informed. 

“Then when he hears it, he’ll at least know where I am. I’ll be there soon.” Optimus looked around and picked up the plate of copper fudge, wrapping it up to take with him. He was unused to making social calls anymore, but certain aspects of one’s education stuck with a mech.

Magnus and Megatron had set up an austere, but nice home. It was Magnus who opened the door. “Optimus, good to see you.”

“And I you, my friend.” Optimus held out the plate of treats. “Starscream made them a few cycles ago – they’re delicious.”

“Thank you. This will go nicely.” Magnus took them. “Megatron is in the dispensary room.” He led Optimus into a much more formal set-up than what he and Starscream had made. So far, their common rooms were untouched except for datapads and a planning suite. But Magnus and Megatron had set up a formal dining room and a proper living room. 

“Forgive the crude set-up. We haven’t been able to choose colors for anything yet.” Magnus told Optimus as he directed him to a chair. “You like your energon with silver iodized, right?”

“You remember perfectly.” Optimus told the mech as Ultra Magnus sat down as well. “How are you, old friend?”

“…Glad it’s over.” Magnus stated after a few moments. “Megatron and I have… Come to terms with each other. And consummated the peacetime agreement.”

It was the question Optimus hadn’t wanted to ask and wasn’t certain he wanted answered. “…I see. That’s one less thing to worry about then. Starscream and I are taking it slowly, but getting there.”

“Good.” Magnus nodded, folding his servos. “It’s been… different.”

Megatron entered before Optimus could think of a reply. “Good to see you, Optimus.” He smiled and Optimus couldn’t help but wonder if things could really improve. If they could be friends again. Him, his treacherous Decepticon mate, the stiff and no-nonsense Autobot, and the tyrant Decepticon. It almost sounded like a joke gone horribly wrong. “Have you heard about the plans for the new medcenter?”

“Who hasn’t?” Optimus asked, accepting a cube from Megatron’s servo. He stopped himself from scanning it for poison. They were at peace and Magnus was right there. “I am of the opinion that we should make sure the foundation can support a larger structure than the intended one. It will add time to the construction, but it will provide a better support for any future additions.”

“I support that idea too. Metalhawk insists that we can’t afford the time, but our current medcenter is working to support our population at the moment. If anything, this is the moment to plan ahead and make sure there will be no struggling future of Cybertron.” Megatron made an impassioned argument.

Optimus’s spark twisted sideways as he listened. Megatron reminded him so much of how they’d been before this damned war twisted both of them. “Then it’s simply a matter of convincing the neutrals that it’s worth it to plan ahead for this. I will speak to Metalhawk tomorrow.” The plate of copper fudge set between them was beginning to shrink. Optimus took a piece before it all disappeared. 

“I hope this works. I have no patience for anymore wasted time.” Megatron huffed, sitting back in his chair. 

“I do not relish the idea of more time lost.” Optimus hesitated. “But I am glad we are blessed with more time now. Cybertron has been revived and our world is a rich paradise again – we must not squander it.”

“Agreed.” Megatron punched a servo into his other hand. “Then we will support each other in the council.”

“…It felt so good to have my friend back.” Optimus told Rung. “Or at least, to not have to fight him anymore. I wanted so badly for everything to be the way I imagined it sometimes.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I let it blind me.”

“The war was over. A certain cessation of your hostilities was expected.”

“But not to the point that it blocked everything else out!” Optimus snapped suddenly. “…I should have paid more attention to other things. I should have been thinking, but I wasn’t – I was just glad it was over.”

“Everyone goes into a certain amount of shock after a major event, Optimus.” Rung calmed him gently. “It is not your fault that your processor was dealing with things it couldn’t. You cannot be everywhere.”

“I know that.” Optimus buried his faceplates. “But I feel like such an idiot sometimes.”

Optimus agreed to share a few cubes of high grade with Ultra Magnus and Megatron and returned late in the evening, coding a little bit overdamped. He almost tripped over the step into the apartment and shook himself. Starscream had never answered the invitation to Megatron and Magnus’s, so he had to be here. Didn’t make sense for him not to be.

The table had been cleared of the full cube he’d left and the washer was running. Someone had run a cloth over the counters. Optimus set the plate in the washer and restarted it. Couldn’t hurt.

When he reached the berthroom, Optimus didn’t bother to turn on the light. He could see someone was in the berth in the low light and tried to make his way silently. Apparently, it wasn’t silent enough. Starscream sat up and turned burning optics on him. “Where were you?”

“I was with Ultra Magnus and Megatron. They said you had been invited as well.” Optimus climbed into berth. “Where were you?”

“Flying. Megatron’s comm is blocked on mine.” Starscream huffed. “You could have left a note.”

Optimus’s damped processor was willing to make leaps his entirely conscious one wasn’t. “You were worried.” He pointed at Starscream briefly. “ You were worried about me.”

Starscream looked at his optics. “You’re drunk.” His lipplates twisted with an expression Optimus didn’t like. The Prime drew him close to his chassis and laid down with Starscream held close. The Seeker was tense and vibrating, but slowly seemed to relax.

“…Comms. We need to exchange comms.” Optimus muttered, pressing a digit to his audial. “Mine’s 456.9.”

“769.1, if you can even remember in the morning.” Starscream sassed as he lay against the Prime. “Go to recharge.”

Optimus drew back his battlemask and pulled Starscream in for a kiss and a nuzzle before he shuttered his optics. He had the Seeker right where he wanted, they would talk in the morning.

“…Megatron isn’t given to drink.” Optimus commented finally. “But Starscream’s Creator was. That instinctive response to a damped mech is from him. I couldn’t have known, but… it was stupid. I don’t understand why Magnus even had High grade in the first place.”

“He’s been known to have a cube or two when his duties are done.” Rung pointed out gently. “He probably thought nothing of it, as you thought nothing of it. You were not very intoxicated, just enough to affect your reflexes. But Starscream’s reaction still upset you.”

“Of course it did. I never wanted him to be afraid of me.” Optimus sighed, covering his optics. “Knowing what I do now… I haven’t had a cube of high grade since he told me about his creator. I don’t miss it, per se. But sometimes, I want to toss one back and forget everything. I know it’s not a solution, but it’s tempting.”

Rung made a note. “Do you worry you might become addicted?”

“If I start drinking again? No. I know my limits. And honestly, I don’t care to drink often.” Optimus shrugged. “Perhaps I should get an FIM chip installed. Then, I’ll never have to worry about it again.”

“If you feel it would help you, I would suggest you do whatever you must.” Rung adjusted his enhancer. “But you don’t have the temptation others might feel for it. So my question becomes, why would you feel the need?”

“Sometimes, the old soldiers gather and have a cube.” Optimus looked briefly wistful. “And remember how things were and what it was like. I don’t miss those days. They were more bad than good. But it might be nice to be able to sit with them and think about it. Ironhide and Slug are never comfortable talking to me when they’ve had their High Grade and I’m still nursing plain energon. I want to be part of them again.”

“What makes you think you’re not part of them?” Rung asked.

“…Nothing they’ve said, but… All the implications. I know I was never just one of the men, but my officers were more comfortable around me. I could put down the mantle more easily. Now I have relatives, and completely different social circles and priorities, but I miss Ironhide’s lectures and swapping jokes with the men.” Optimus quietly put a servo to his mouth. “I miss the simplicity.”

For one reason or another, they never had the talk Optimus always meant to have when he left their washracks in the morning. He let himself be tempted in because Starscream always found ways to lure him. Either with sensuous kisses or soft, inviting touches along his protoform. 

Starscream’s arm slid through Optimus’s servo with a quick twist of the Seeker’s wrist, leaving the Prime where he usually did – stunned and with his processor spinning as he tried to call Starscream back, only to be utterly ignored. 

This was their last grace day. He couldn’t let this talk be put off anymore. Clearing his HUD of arousal notifications and pings, he forced himself back down and away. If he could just catch Starscream before they had to be presentable for the rest of the day, they might be able to make some headway.

Optimus’s optics settled on his chronometer. Primus, he was late already. How long had they been in the washracks? He’d been less… cooperative that morning, but an extra klickcycle? Even with Starscream’s speed and the advantage of flight, he’d have been late too. A meeting notification pinged and Optimus pushed it aside. There were more important things right now.

Optimus transformed and headed for the administration building at once. Where was Starscream’s office? Somewhere high up, with a window on a corner so he could get in and out easily for his surveys. 311? Right, that was it. Ignoring the ‘meeting in progress’ notification on the door’s display screen, Optimus used his override to unlock the office.

Metalhawk, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Starscream all looked up from a projected display over the Seeker’s desk and Optimus felt a twinge of guilt in his processor as he realized he was supposed to be at this meeting. It was the notification he’d silenced just before leaving. From their expressions, he looked as much of a hot mess as he felt, and Starscream was rising to his pedes slowly. “Optimus?” What was that fragging tone? Why was his expression so unreadable?

“Gentlemechs.” Optimus kept his voice level with difficulty. “Will you give my Intended and I the room?” He asked, stepping away from the door. 

Metalhawk stood up. “Of course.” He bumped the Prime with his wing in a falsely companionable way. “No progress can be made today in any case.” 

Megatron actually fragging winked as he passed Optimus and the Prime’s servo went to the lock function, practically punching it.

“We need to talk.” He tried to keep himself on task as he strode into the office, but it was getting harder to think. They were supposed to be bonded – their deadline was a matter of klickcycles – and he was so confused. 

Starscream slowly backed up against the window as Optimus encroached on his space, EM tight and lashing. The Prime met it with his own, warm presence and their fields locked into each other even before Optimus set a flat servo on the window beside the Seeker’s helm. His lipplates were parted as if to speak, but no sound was coming out and his vents were heaving laboriously. “I don’t think talking is on your processor.” Starscream finally spoke back. They were pressed together against the mirrored glass and it occurred to Optimus that he didn’t know if it was privacy glass or not. 

“It’s not.” Primus, this was difficult. “But we have to talk.” 

Starscream surged forward and locked his lipplates with Optimus’s. The Convoy grappled with the Seeker, with his feelings, and the urges of his frame and the reasonable part of his processor lost. He ran his servos along Starscream’s sides, feeling the warm and smooth plating and the soft ridges of weld scars. No one had come through unscathed.

Starscream pressed up against him, full frame against his grille, and the jet’s engines flared and poured heated air over Optimus’s chassis. Optimus’s own engines roared in response. The kiss broke, a glimmering blue strand of oral lubricant hanging between them and Starscream tried to slip down the Prime’s frame. 

Optimus wasn’t having it. With more force than he’d have liked to use, he grabbed Starscream’s upper arms and pulled him upright again, burying his intake in Starscream’s again, lippaint smearing over them. “Why are you running away?” He breathed into the Seeker’s audial as he began working around to his neckcables and nibbling and suckling along them. 

Starscream panted, briefly stunned that his usual trick hadn’t worked. Instead of answering, he unsheathed his claws and latched them into Optimus’s grille, sending a strong burst of charge into the sensitive armor and eliciting another roar of engines. Optimus retaliated by running his digits along the hinges of his wings and tapping them against the edge. Starscream pushed up against the Prime’s shoulders and got his pedes onto the glass behind them, pushing off and directly into Optimus’s chassis. 

Optimus let himself be pushed back and practically fell against the desk. Something fell, he didn’t care. Starscream vaulted up over him and something else fell. Starscream didn’t care. The Seeker’s knees slotted perfectly on either side of Optimus’s chassis as he leaned down and kissed the convoy soundly. His faceplates were entirely smeared with black and glitter. 

Optimus ran his digits up the barely-perceptible seam halving Starscream’s cockpit and across the Decepticon badge. The purple sigil glared at him, something challenging in the face’s optics. The Seeker’s vents puffed out steam when he touched the edges of the badge. The brand had impacted the sensors. Prime pulled him down for another kiss with one servo cupping his neck and the other traced down the small of his back to his aft, squeezing firm plating there.

Starscream made a sound that was suspiciously broken and his vocalizer turned off with a spurt of static. Probably not a bad idea considering the walls were thin as frost on All Light’s Day. He went for Optimus’s aerial and the Prime had to harshly deny his interface’s pings. He had a plan – sort of. 

The servo on Starscream’s aft crept back up to his wings and rubbed into the joints, soon joined by the other. He rubbed and teased the sensitive spot as charge built in Starscream’s EM field. The Seeker’s emotions were overpowering when his modesty panels slid aside and a slick smear of lubricant spread across the Prime’s own where they ground together. When Optimus’s servos went to the place, he felt plush, silicone folds pulling aside from a tender anterior node, pierced through with a cold ring of metal. He looped the tip of his digit into it and gave a light tug. Starscream’s vents kicked up another notch and he vibrated, field pulling in tight to his plating. 

“I won’t hurt you.” It occurred to Optimus as Starscream’s field retreated that this was probably terrifying for the Seeker. It couldn’t be easy – taking his enemy’s commander to berth, exposing himself like this. “I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, releasing the node ring and massaging the soft, slick folds, pressing nodes and crossing biolights. Starscream began to rock into his servo, optics overbright and far away.

“I will never hurt you.” When Optimus laced his middle digit into the Seeker’s valve, Starscream snapped back to reality, optics meeting the Prime’s. He pulled him in for another kiss that turned sloppy quickly. They pushed against each other and he took the chance to slide another digit in. He could feel charge growing in his digits. Starscream was almost crackling. It wouldn’t take much.

In a calculated move, Optimus’s free servo played across the edge of a wing while, at the same time, he took the Seeker’s bottom lip delicately in his dentea and nibbled, and scissored his digits. Starscream’s sensors were overwhelmed and his optics almost whited out as he overloaded. Optimus’s servo went numb from the backfire of charge and he pulled his slicked digits out to shake feeling back into his hand. Starscream lay flat across him, vents heaving and field confused and awash with afterglow. Optimus slipped his clean servo down to one of the Seeker’s, lacing their digits together. With the warm frame on top of his, the pings from his interface and modesty panels renewed their fervency. With effort, he dismissed them. Starscream was almost unconscious and he would not presume.

Long klicks passed before Starscream pushed himself up with his free servo, seeming surprised he hadn’t been disturbed. “What are you waiting for?” He managed to sound slagged off even as his vocalizer crackled with its reactivation. 

“An invitation.” Optimus sat up, pushing Starscream out onto his lap as he bracketed him in with an arm and kissed him. 

Starscream’s wings twitched in surprise. “…Sappy, pathetic Autobot.”

“If waiting for outright consent is pathetic, I’ll gladly be pathetic.” Optimus replied, cupping the Seeker’s helm.

“And what if I don’t?” Starscream teased a claw into the seam between the Prime’s windshield. 

“Then I’ll leave.” Optimus replied, simply. 

Another twitch and Starscream covered his surprise with a long, drawn-out, biting kiss. “…Primus, you’re impossible. Put me through the slagging desk already!”

“As you wish.” He stood up, carrying Starscream with him. The Seeker made a shrill noise of surprise as he was set on his back on the desk. It was already practically cleared and its contents were scattered on the floor. They’d worry about cracked screens and broken nameplates later. Optimus gave into his frame’s wishes and released his spike again. 

Starscream tensed when he felt the Prime’s arousal between his thighs. Optimus became aware of their size difference again, thrusting between the folds of Starscream’s valve as he eyed them, wondering.

Starscream pushed up and gripped Optimus’s aerials, pulling himself closer to the convoy’s frame. “I’ve had larger.” He told him. “Stop worrying.”

Optimus went to kiss Starscream again, but the Seeker turned his helm and attacked his neckcables. With a rumble of his engines, Optimus thrust forward automatically and the head of his spike caught the node piercing, making Starscream gasp. 

Every ridge brought out more sounds from Starscream’s vocalizer and Optimus could feel the clamp and ripple of calipers along every centimeter of his spike. They rocked together with abandon, not bothering to synchronize their movements, clashing and gripping, scratching and pinching, forcing each other to bend and lean and make room for the other. Primal. Animalistic. Messy.

Perfect.

Optimus was silent, optics far away as he relived his memories. Rung let the silence linger for a few klicks before redirecting his patient. “Optimus.”

The Prime startled briefly and sat up. “I’m sorry. I went somewhere else, didn’t I?” He settled back into the chair. “…It seems everyone knows what happened between Starscream and I that morning. We weren’t exactly discrete about it, but… It doesn’t matter. We were urged to bond for the sake of peace.”

“What happened after that?” Rung asked gently, taking notes. “Why did you bring this particular day up?”

“…Mostly because of one particular person’s reactions.” Optimus sighed softly. 

Starscream was sitting up on the edge of the desk, plating raised from his protoform as he balanced there, heels still draped around Optimus’s waist. Neither was steady on their axis, but leaning on each other in an embrace that was half-sleepy. Their lipplates rested against each other’s, not locked but touching in a way that was somehow more intimate – vents blowing into each other’s intake. “…Primus, what have we done?” Starscream asked quietly.

“Possibly the most reckless and impulsive thing I’ve ever done.” Optimus replied with a quiet humor, opening his optics and pulling back only a centimeter. Starscream’s lippaint was smeared and coolant beaded along his helm. “On the other hand, I’m inclined to think it might be one of the best as well.”

“Everyone is going to have heard.” Starscream caressed his aerial. 

“Let them.” Optimus kissed him again, solid and sweet, before he took a short step back, maintaining his grip on the Seeker’s sides. “They’ll assume it’s spark call.”

Starscream rolled his helm on his neck and stretched his wings out. He looked around his office wearily. “…Next time, we’re doing this in your office.”

“If you wish.” Optimus took hold of his chin, gently but firmly and lifted his helm. “No more running, all right?” He spoke softly. “I will never hurt you.”

“…All right.” Starscream stated, wings stretching again as he leaned his chin into the large servo. “…Though if it gets me this…”

Optimus chuffed amusedly. “You are incorrigible.” He ran his servos down the Seeker and sat down in his chair. “Fortunately, I seem to be enjoying that.”

Starscream smirked and then burst out into a laugh. “…Your faceplates are a fragging mess.”

“You should see yourself.” Optimus retorted, reaching into his subspace for cleaning cloths. Starscream did the same and they began putting themselves to rights. There was nothing they could do about the paint transfers that littered their frames. “…Ratchet is going to read me the riot act.”

“You could always hide in here with me…” Starscream traced a heel up the Prime’s thigh. 

Optimus muttered an amused oath. “No. We both have work to do. Canceling one meeting is enough for one day.” He kissed the denuded Seeker again. “…Tonight, we talk.”

“Yes.” Starscream agreed softly and hopped down. “I’ll pick up my desk. Go.”

Optimus twiddled the tip of one wing in his digits as he headed for the door. The limb batted away his hand and he smiled to himself as he snapped his battlemask in place.

Directly outside the door, Ratchet was waiting. The mech’s expression stopped Optimus in his tracks. “Ratchet. How good to see you this morning.” 

“Medbay, now.” Ratchet grabbed Optimus’s servo and dragged him off. Hapless, the Prime followed. He hadn’t expected this. He’d expected to be scolded by Ratchet, of course, but he’d expected it in his office and he hadn’t expected to be dragged to medbay. There was only one reason Ratchet would want to take him to the medbay.

Optimus mentally prepared himself for the oncoming lecture. Interfacing in the offices, without even the excuse of Spark Call? Scandalous. 

Ratchet made him sit down on a berth in a private room and brought out a scanner. “Let’s see the damage. Open up.”

Optimus reset his vocalizer. “We haven’t bonded yet, Ratchet.” He told the medic, preparing for the oncoming storm.

“I knew it.” Ratchet crossed his arms. 

“Ratchet, I - What? You knew?” Optimus gave the medic a bewildered look. 

“If you really had been experiencing such severe spark call, one of two things would have happened: 1) You wouldn’t have made it into work at all. 2) You would have made it to work, but that door would have stayed lock the whole damn day.” Ratchet explained, expression tightening. “What are you doing, Optimus?”

Optimus looked down at the white paint transfers his armor was littered with. He thought that made it perfectly obvious. Ratchet scoffed. “I don’t just mean that, Optimus. I mean – throwing out three other mechs, interfacing, vigorously, with Starscream in an office building… What’s going through your processor?”

Optimus gave a brief explanation of the situation, leaving out some of the more lurid details. Ratchet did not look impressed. “So you decided to barge into his office and put him through the desk?” He summarized. “That doesn’t sound like you – and it’s not going to look right when it gets around.”

“When it gets around - ? We are supposed to be bonded, and by this evening we will have bonded – you have my word on that.” Optimus’s optics flashed. “So I don’t see what ‘right’ has to do with it. He’s my mate, and we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Damn it, Optimus!” Ratchet threw down his scanner on the berth beside the Prime. “…A rumor’s started that you and Starscream were lovers even before the peace brokering.”

Optimus was stunned. “What – Who says that?!” His aerials lifted up as high as they could go. “It’s patently untrue.”

“You know that, and I know that. But if people see you and Starscream getting… Comfy like this, it’ll gain traction.” Ratchet scolded. 

Optimus was still processing, but snapped himself out of it. “I didn’t protest the bonding. And I didn’t protest the Neutral’s choices of mechs. I asked that Megatron and I not be put together, but I didn’t request Starscream! And I don’t think it’s unreasonable that the things I do with my Intended are my business!”

“Optimus. You and I know perfectly well that facts and evidence don’t always carry the weight they should.” Ratchet told him. “Just keep it at home.”

“Metalhawk.” Ratchet’s flinch told Optimus everything. “Metalhawk is saying these things.” 

“…Yeah. And you know how much weight his word pulls with the Neutrals.” Ratchet sighed. “I’m sorry, Optimus.”

“What game is he playing at?”

“Power. What other game is there?” Ratchet shrugged.

“I loathe Metalhawk.” Optimus stated conversationally, servos tensed on the end of his chair’s arms. “More than anyone else.”

“Megatron?” Rung suggested, tapping his digits with his stylus. 

Optimus shook his helm, staring up at the ceiling. “What I feel for Megatron is honest hatred. When I see him, I see all the things he’s done – mechs he’s hurt. But I also see that he’s trying. Not hard enough in some places, and even if he was, I honestly don’t think it would do any good. But he knows he’s done wrong. Metalhawk…” The Convoy huffed and his servos began to close. “Metalhawk is a slimy, self-righteous, back-stabbing, two-faced, twisted – “ There was an audible crack and the ends of the chair’s arms broke, causing both mechs to jump.

Optimus examined the ends of the chair and pressed his servos to his faceplates. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” When he pulled his servos away, there was clarified energon and optical lubricant beading in his optics. “I hate being this way.” He pressed his servos to his lipplates. “I feel so angry… All the time, some cycles. And everything frustrates me. I’m terrified – “ There was a hitch in his vents. “ – I’m terrified that I’ll snap and shout in front of Starscream, or even at Starscream, or one of the twins. I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens.” He dabbed at his optics. “Everything I have with Starscream is built around the fact that I’ve never hurt him. …If something happens and I do… I’ll lose it all.”

“Optimus.” Rung stood up. “You are not Starscream’s therapist. You are his bondmate. Do you truly believe that you would lay a servo on him?”

The Convoy shook his head. “I would rather rip out my spark.”

“Then you won’t.” Rung stated firmly. “But I’m beginning to see the outline of one of the major issues here. In working to build a safe place for your family – for Starscream and the twins – you have neglected to create a safe space for yourself. I recommend you find or build a place where you can go to release these emotions when they threaten to overwhelm you. Perhaps an additional room or small structure that you can use.”

“…A training room would be nice.” Optimus took a deep vent. “I miss problems I could punch. …Don’t tell Sideswipe I said that.”

“I will tell no one what you confide to me, Optimus. But our time is up. It’s time for you to go home. How do you feel?”

“…Drained. Empty.” Optimus stood up and looked back at the chair. “…I will replace that.”

“Pay it no mind. The arms are designed to break more easily than the rest. Keep in mind, I attend many trauma patients.” Rung reminded him, putting a servo on his back to guide him away. “As for your emotional state, drained is a common feeling at the end of a first session. This tends to be the most difficult one.”

Optimus came home feeling lower than he had in a long, long time. Since Megatron took the Matrix, in fact. Starscream was rearranging the crystal points on their dispensary table. The light above cast patterns of refracted rainbows across the table’s surface. The convoy walked up behind him and Starscream’s wings rose as he looked over his shoulder. “Hey there.” He looked back down at the table. 

Optimus set down a box of supplies from the rationing station. “Pretty.” Optimus leaned on Starscream’s back, looking down and nuzzling into his neckcables. 

“Thank you.” Starscream purred softly. “It was a game in Praxus, before everything happened. The object is to make different patterns.”

“It looks fun.” Optimus reached out and adjusted the position of one of the crystals, watching the effect in the shadows and light. 

Starscream touched another one, pushing them around. They created a snowflake pattern and then tried for a flower like an earth rose. The complex design turned out to be impossible and they settled for randomly positioning the points. At last, Starscream sighed and turned around, looping his arms around the Prime’s neck. “What’s bothering you?”

Optimus kissed him and pulled him into his lap as he heavily settled in one of the chairs. He told him about Ratchet and what the medic said. “…I’m sorry. I know this isn’t either of our fault, but it seems so ridiculous. We’re supposed to be bonded – tonight – and we can’t even act like we like each other?”

Starscream perched on his lap. “Well, in all honesty, I would probably be shocked too. I mean, we did shoot at each other for four million years. One would assume we would have to hate each other.”

“It was war. Both sides did things I hate to think of.” Optimus brushed a digit over the bottom of Starscream’s wing. “…Granted, you were a sneaky glitch who was far more effective than most of Megatron’s lackeys.”

“And you sent me plummeting out of the sky far more often than the rest of your mud-pounding klutzes.” Starscream cooed back, tracing a claw up the Prime’s chin. “But I took that as flirting.” He smirked humorously. 

Optimus chuckled back. “Then you should probably be furious with how much ‘flirting’ I’ve done with your cousins. Or brothers? Honestly, Jazz could never figure out exactly what your relations were in the Seeker troops.”

“Good. We intended it that way.” Starscream huffed. “For the record, and the sake of peace, Skywarp and Sunstorm are my brother and half-brother. Sunstorm is the youngest, Skywarp is the eldest. Thundercracker is Skywarp’s bondmate and my brother-in-law. The rest of us are either aeriemates – which is like cousins – or grew up in the same Barrio.”

“I see. Fortunate that your family survived intact.” Optimus hummed. “I was an only child.”

“Lucky you.” Starscream shook his helm. “…I’ve lost more aeriemates than I care to count. Notably, one before the war even started. He was a doctor named Pharma – he joined you lot. Of course, he also thought the Decepticons were doomed and we would all be executed, so what does he know?” The Seeker chuffed.

“Pharma…” Optimus thought for a long moment. “Pharma was assigned to Delphi most recently, but we haven’t heard from him in a long time. I’ll ask Prowl to send mechs to check on them.”

Starscream’s optics brightened. “Delphi is in DJD territory.” Silence fell between them. The infamous DJD struck fear into every spark, Autobot or Decepticon. 

“I’m sorry…” Optimus pulled him close. “We’ll check on them anyway, and call them home.”

“…You’re lucky you had no family to lose.” Starscream murmured. “Lucky.”

“I’ve lost dear friends. And mechs I considered my own.” Optimus replied. “But perhaps you’re right. I’ve always been something of a single spark.” He rubbed Starscream’s wings. 

“…Let’s get this over with. I want the whole thing done.” Starscream’s wings drooped. “I don’t want to worry about it in the morning…”

“…Then let’s finish it.” Optimus stood up and gripped the Seeker’s servo. Starscream didn’t try to escape.

“…A single spark in a crowd.” Optimus shook his helm, pinching his nasal vent. “I don’t know why I keep coming back to that thought.”

“It is the condition of all sentient beings to consider themselves alone to some point.” Rung tapped his temple. “As a leader, and a Prime, that isolation would have been more definite.”

“I can never show weakness.” Optimus pressed a servo to his mouth. “Or at least, I couldn’t. I had men to serve, mechs to lead. Cybertronians to comfort. And I still do. So many still look up to me. I can’t just be Optimus – I have to be Optimus Prime.”

“Did this sense of isolation intensify in Starscream’s company?”

“No. If anything, it lessened. It was like I’d gained a partner in solitude. He was never going to look up to me to make him feel better and I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t feeling something. I could drop the mantle. Neither of us were attached – romantically at least – before the betrothal. There were no complications. And we were all so tired of fighting we didn’t even make the energy to argue. Everything had gone to slag – on both sides’ vision of the end. So many things just hadn’t worked out, so many mechs were gone, and it was all – Weird.” Optimus sighed. “It was working. It felt so smooth and effortless. It never occurred to me that something might be going wrong, because so many things were just wrong.”

“What happened during your bonding?”

“Mutually, we laid back and thought of Cybertron.” Optimus recalled. “We agreed to hide all but our most surface thoughts, tangled together, and made it work as quickly as we could.”

Optimus woke alone the next morning and a brief search revealed Starscream wasn’t in the apartment. Anxiety clawed at the thin-as-thread bond stretching between them. It wasn’t strong enough for him to feel Starscream’s emotions. Pressing a digit to his comm, Optimus sent a ping and was relieved when he received a responding ping. Starscream texted that he was flying and needed some time to be alone.

There was energon lying out and a twist of copper from Optimus’s box of supplies waiting in it. The Prime picked it up and sipped, picking up his datapad. For once, there was nothing he needed to do that couldn’t wait. Strange: A rest day that could actually be dedicated to rest.

He slid a thumb over the face of his datapad and called up files so old he wasn’t certain he still had them: A library of Cybertronian novels. He flipped through his old favorites, looking for something to read, but his processor was too busy. He stood up and paced the apartment. …This wasn’t working. He needed to do something. Maybe Starscream had the right idea. A drive might do him good. 

Optimus headed outside the city, trying to avoid mechs he knew personally. He was not in the mood for a social call. Slowly making his way along the cliffs and valleys outside, he spotted a grouping of colorful jets in the sky. It didn’t take him long to pick out Starscream among them. They seemed to be either dancing or playing, and either way, it was beautiful to watch. He transformed and shielded his optics as he stared after them. 

Starscream and his trine were flipping around Sunstorm and the Rainmakers, merging in and our of formations so fast he couldn’t keep up with all seven of them. Starscream and Sunstorm transformed, helms down, and plummeted towards the ground, only to transform and soar again. 

It must be amazing to fly. He couldn’t help the jealousy as he crossed his arms over his chassis and watched them. 

A wave of sadness passed over his spark. Seven Seekers left on Cybertron… If they weren’t careful, the frametype might simply vanish. He felt a twinge in his spark and heard jet engines much closer. Starscream was coming in for a landing nearby. “…I could feel you staring from all the way up there. Is something wrong?” The Seeker asked, maintaining distance between them.

The distance panged as well, more sour than sad, though. Optimus gave a brief glance around. They were outside the city and more or less in private. The Seekers had continued their play above. He crossed to his mate and pulled him in for an embrace. “Merely taking stock.” The Prime replied. 

Starscream went unresistingly. “…Only seven or eight left.” He murmured. “Even under Sentinel, we numbered in the hundreds of thousands.”

The flighty jets had died in droves in the beginning. Devastating battles waged between land and sky left them littering fields like crushed flowers. Optimus took hold of Starscream’s servo and squeezed it. “…If this is spark call, it’s not what I’ve heard.” He muttered. “It’s like a distant, constant ache.”

“Does it get better when I’m here?” Starscream asked, pressing up on the Prime’s battlemask until he retracted it and let the Seeker cup his cheekplate. 

“I don’t know.” Optimus admitted. “Perhaps it gets a little worse.”

“We should have merged again in the morning.” Starscream’s optics were going bright. “I shouldn’t have gone out – I’m sorry.” An anxious tone entered his voice. 

“Shh… No. It’s fine. If you wish, we can return home now, but I don’t want to tear you away from your family.”

“They can get along without me.” Starscream transformed. “I’ll meet you back at the apartment.”

“I will be there soon.”

Starscream was practically hovering inside the foyer when Optimus arrived. Every line of his frame was anxious and tense. “There you are.” He almost snapped, optics overbright. “You took far too long, what kept you?”

“I got here as fast as possible.” He reached out and tried to put a hand on Starscream’s arm and the Seeker flinched. Something was bothering him – spark call or something else. This wasn’t going to work. Optimus groaned softly. “Starscream, I’m not going to hurt you.” He laid his servo flat between them. “While I would have appreciated a note, I am genuinely not in pain. Just experiencing strange emotions.”

Starscream’s wings slumped a little and his optics returned to a normal level. “Well, of course you’re experiencing strange emotions. We did just have our first bondmerge last night.” The Seeker turned and went into the berthroom. “Come on, let’s try not to make ourselves miserable.”

Optimus stroked Starscream’s wing, the haze of their merge slowly clearing from his processor. Starscream had shared the memory of his flight that morning, and it was only now dawning on Optimus that he didn’t have wings. The phantom sensation of weight and balance was so strong that he’d passively believed for a long moment that he did. 

“If you feel comfortable sharing,” he spoke softly to Starscream, “I would like to feel one of your memories of flying.”

Starscream was quiet for a long moment. “…We should merge again. Would you like to see what we were just doing this morning?” He invited.

“I would, if you allow.” Optimus gently pulled the Seeker over his chassis – Starscream liked to be on top most of the time, he was learning. “Would you like to see something of me?” He asked as their spark chambers began to open – internal armor sliding aside first until both his windshield and Starscream’s cockpit glowed from within with light.

“…Perhaps you would share some of your combat skills.” Starscream suggested as his final layer of armor began to pull away. “You had some intriguing ones.”

“I would consider it an even trade.” Optimus’s servos found Starscream’s and linked, holding on as they began to merge. 

…The weight of his wings nullified by the lift of powerful engines. The air sliced easily over his form, his wingmates, his brothers, on every side of him. There was a powerful sense of relief here, in the sky, where he was safe with them. The unspoken warmth of bonds born of longstanding friendship and protection surrounded him and lifted the constant storm of paranoia and fear from his processor and spark. He was one of the younger among their ranks, but he’d risen above them all, and shielded them with his own frame and processor from… The whole tone of the memory became dark as threads of broken association and engrained reactions began to tug at Optimus. This memory was attached to others. And their call was strong.

Starscream’s spark pulled back, pushing him away until they were two presences again. Before he could ask questions, Optimus was pulled into a different memory. A thunderstorm, crackling electric over his EM and wings. The rain falling on his plating with a weight that was definite and sensual. Uneasy winds coursing over his wings, he transformed into root mode and vented harshly, tasting the air and the ozone. 

If Optimus’s optics were online, they’d have brightened when he realized what Starscream was showing him. It had never occurred to him that this was even possible. 

Lightning could be dangerous, but the charge between the clouds was gentle and prickling, tingling in every inch of his plating and flaring between his array and spark. He spun away from a gust of harsh, cold air and let himself fall through a cloud layer, gathering more charge and sensation before kicking back on his thrusters and soaring again. The give and take of energy between him and the clouds was intoxicating and he plummeted into the sea as he overloaded. The sudden rush of the water – warm beneath all the rain – carried him up when he turned skywards again and pulled himself out on a barely exposed rock to be washed in the rain. 

Starscream achieved his objective, distracting Optimus, as their sparks pulled back and closed up. He laid over the Prime and shifted against him, rocking their hips together. Working through the memory and the lingering charge of his last overload, Optimus didn’t resist. They tangled together like an octodrone and Starscream fell into recharge afterwards.

Only later would Optimus remember the dark threads tugging at Starscream’s happy memories, but by then they were enjoying a pleasant meal together and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“I wish I’d asked more questions. Of everybody – not just him. I wish I’d put together the pieces sooner.” Optimus quietly stated. “I have advised so many mechs to deal with things directly. That problems we don’t solve will haunt us, but I fell into the same trap. Sidestep the darker parts of life, hold onto your loved ones, and pretend that gripping harder will keep them with us.” He dropped his servo onto the new arm of the chair, picked it up, and let gravity pull it down again. 

“You are not the only mech to fall prey to that mindset.” Rung assured him. “And you will not be the last. What matters is that you are pursuing solutions now, not what you did before.”

“I tell myself that… And it just doesn’t matter, because it’s too late.” Optimus hummed. “I spent so long lying to myself… And this is the end result. If I had listened to Ratchet, if I had listened to Prowl, back when things might have been manageable, how would it have changed things now?” 

“The logical assumption is that we wouldn’t be here at all.” Rung commented. “But by the same token, neither would you and Starscream. And many of the other meaningful relationships formed over the course of the peace would not have happened.”

“Our race has not propagated itself in an epoch.” Optimus tiredly rubbed his aerial. “The same mechs would be alive then. And they would not have faced millennia of exile and death in order to reach this point.”

“Optimus. This is a moot point.” Rung stated more firmly than normal. “You cannot change the past. What is done is done, and dwelling on it will not help you progress. Have you spoken to Starscream on the matter?”

“Yes, actually. But for obvious reasons, I don’t trust the things he says sometimes.” Optimus sighed. “In his memories, there is a lot of resentment aimed at me, for not finishing things when I had a chance, but how he feels in the here and now… I never notice anything particularly negative. He gets angry, of course, and morose, but not resentful.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to close the book on self-recrimination. You are not to blame for the way the war has turned out. You are not responsible for the lives lost.” 

“Perhaps not.”

“Was there anyone else?” Starscream asked Optimus as he laid over him, leaning on one elbow with his heels in the air, rocking them back and forth. From the berth to the dispensary, back to berth. Optimus mentally plotted their next destination as the washracks. 

“Before the war, I had mech friends like anyone else. Fewer than most, perhaps.” Optimus stretched, laying a servo on the small of Starscream’s back. It was difficult to embrace a Seeker with his wings spread out. “But after the Matrix passed to me, I quickly understood that had come to an end.”

“Why?” Starscream arched an orbital ridge. “Unless you’re about to pull a makeshift on me and reveal that someone else has been interfacing with me all morning.”

“No, nothing like that.” Optimus lifted his helm for a peck. “I simply realized that my men would never refuse something I asked them for. Either out of personal loyalty or because they would feel it an honor to be courted by the Matrix-bearer. And I could not risk taking advantage of that.”

“But you can take advantage of little old me?” Starscream smirked, batting his optics.

“I highly doubt you would allow anyone to take advantage of you.” Optimus laid back. “And you don’t revere the Matrix or me.”

Starscream paused just a hair too long. “Maybe not the Matrix, but anyone who didn’t revere a frame as magnificent as yours is a blind mech.” He purred softly, his own lithe frame writhing up against Optimus’s. “And I am many things, but not blind.”

“…He uses interfacing to avoid hard topics.” Optimus quietly stated. “And it took me far too long to catch on given how obvious it was. I don’t know what to do, Rung.”

“Why don’t you tell me about when it all started to fall down?” Rung quietly replied. “So far, what you’ve spoken of seems to be low-hanging fruit. Things you’ve analyzed and thought over too many times to count.”

“…When it all started to fall down… That has to be when we found out he was sparked.” Optimus quietly sank back into his memory.

Starscream was locked in the washracks. Optimus wouldn’t normally mind – sometimes mechs needed their privacy – but he had needs to take care of as well, and it had been klickcycles. The Seeker’s side of the bond was quiet, awash in shock, and Optimus had tried giving him space. Now he was knocking on the door and the bond itself. “Starscream? Starscream, what are you doing in there?”

Starscream opened the door with his cockpit open and for a moment, Optimus was entirely confuzzled. The Seeker didn’t usually open an interface session with sparkmerge. But Starscream pointed into his chassis. “Do you see it?!” He asked excitedly, pointing more definitively. 

Optimus leaned down, staring into the white brilliance of Starscream’s spark. In front of it, a sparklet pulsed by – sea green and rimmed in gold. “…Oh, my Primus…” Optimus’s optics brightened and began to leak. “Is that…?”

“It’s a sparklet.” Starscream confirmed, practically trilling in pleasure. “It’s our sparklet.”

“We should see Ratchet.” Optimus pulled Starscream into an embrace. “Can you feel it?”

“They’re not old enough to have many emotions, but there’s happiness. A lot of it.” Starscream cooed to the sparklet. “Open up, you’ll be able to feel.” He tapped on the Convoy’s chassis and Optimus obeyed his mate, pulling Starscream back onto the berth so neither would fall. 

The simple bursts of happiness-love-Creator-Carrier he picked up from their forming child made his vorn. Optimus kissed Starscream full on the lipplates and held him close as they drifted against each other, sending love and burst of energy to the sparkling. 

It took all of a decacycle for Starscream to get through the awe he felt for his sparklet – staring at it in the mirror, quietly contemplating it, making things for it – and to leap right into pride. He was the King of the World, strutting about new Iacon and telling anyone who asked what was up. Optimus was right there with him – minus the practical bragging – on cloud nine.

It was a while before they found a chance to bring it up with Megatron and Magnus. Almost a full cycle. And something about the circumstance took all the joy right out of Starscream. First off, Megatron approached them on their way home. “Optimus! Starscream! I’ve been hearing someone’s sparked.” He had a friendly smile on his face and Magnus was coming beside him. “Congratulations.”

“Indeed.” Starscream let off a prickly energy. “I suppose now we know the answer to the age-old question – “

Megatron was still speaking. “I am as well. When’s the Creation date expected?”

Starscream’s half of the bond went still and quiet. “…The seventh orn of next vorn.” Starscream replied. “Yours?”

“The sixth of the same vorn. How serendipitous.” Megatron smiled, and turned to Optimus. “Congratulations.”

Starscream was not the same that evening as they headed home. Optimus looked down at him. “Starscream, are you all right?”

The Seeker looked briefly up at him, then away. “I’m fine.”

Optimus tugged him gently around in the foyer. “Forgive me for calling sparkbond privilege, but I hope I would be a better mate than to believe that.”

“We had a longstanding argument about whose fault it was that we never managed to kindle together.” Starscream stated so off-handedly that it almost hurt. “I thought this settled it. That’s all.”

“…Failure to kindle is not something you can assign blame to, Starscream.” Optimus frowned. “It simply is.”

“Yes, well, it’s a moot point.” Starscream turned away, tugging free. “I’m going to do some light housekeeping. Would you like something to drink while you’re reading?”

“…No, that’s all right. I could help you.”

“Save it, Prime, I can manage just fine.” And he disappeared. 

“…Later, I learned Megatron doesn’t produce transfluid.” Optimus commented. “An easy diagnosis and one even Hook should have been able to make. My personal theory is that he was too terrified to tell Megatron, so let it remain undiscovered.”

“How did you come by such information?” Rung asked, adjusting his enhancer a little sharply. “It would have been privileged information.”

“Megatron told me when things began to really go downhill.” Optimus pinched his nasal vent. “I think he saw – sees – honesty as the last-ditch effort to save what friendship we were piecing together… I don’t know, maybe he was making one last play at Starscream somehow. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does put more of the context of the time into being.” Rung agreed. “Though it’s not pleasant information.”

“…Not pleasant sums up all the information I learned from that point out.” Optimus rumbled.

Carrying made most mechs strange, and Starscream was no exception. They were moved from the rough apartments into a proper house in a newly-constructed neighborhood and Starscream immediately began arranging it into a nest to suit himself and his newspark. But there was something wrong… Something strange in his actions. Optimus would wake in the nightcycle feeling anxiety and nausea pouring out of Starscream’s half of the bond. It disoriented, confused, and frightened him. 

Finally, Optimus got a glimpse into the Seeker’s sleeping cries for help when he was pulled into one of Starscream’s nightmares one nightcycle. 

It was dark. Everything was dark and his wings were in agony. So many staples and nails and chains connecting him to the wall. A bind around his neck, bands over his arms, spikes through his wings. Only his legs hung free. Optimus tried to reach for Starscream, but the pain pushed him back. The fear and self-loathing. His fault, his fault, his fault… Shouldn’t have talked back. Sharp glossa will get him slagged one day. And now he had to pay. His energon was dangerously low.

He practically screamed when someone touched him, cupping his modesty panel before ripping it off. Pleas, groveling, and obscene begging poured out of his vocalizer. Begging, offering anything except this. Cruel digits in an unlubricated valve. All his gyros went insane. He couldn’t keep stable. He was running dry – several days without fuel, without coolant, without minerals or metals – he had nothing to give, and that was the point. 

But he still begged. Because even though he knew it was futile – knew nothing would come of it – he remembered the pain of last time. He remembered the splits in his valve and the energon running down his legs and the agony of torn nodes. He would give anything to avoid that.

Optimus watched in silent horror as the memory-cum-dream went on. Who was this mech who’d done these things? Overlord? Tarn? There was a time Starscream was on the mech’s List…

Spurts of something too hot – burningonsensitivetearingnopleasetakeitoutitstoobig – shot into his valve and his tormentor overloaded. Sight returned to his optics as the blinders were taken off and he stared into the sickly satisfied faceplates of Megatron.

Optimus had both servos over his mouth, trying to keep his sobs hidden. His access to Starscream’s memories made them as much his own as the Seekers – separated by a thin logic gate that reminded him he didn’t have wings. Rung was patting his shoulder carefully as coolant and energon streamed from his optics. “…What happened next?”

“He woke. And I – I demanded to see everything. And he was so frightened of what I would do now that I knew – He thought he was impure! And he believed I wouldn’t want him anymore, that I might do something to get rid of him.” Optimus frustration and outrage bubbled in different directions in his vocalizer. “He started - ! He started begging for the sparklet – our sparklet – and he genuinely thought I might demand he snuff them! Because he was raped. BECAUSE HE WAS RAPED!” Optimus raged, throwing out a servo into the wall and denting it deeply. “AND MORE THAN JUST THAT!” His vocalizer gave out under the force of his emotions and he had to reset it. “I thought there was nothing that could possibly be worse than rape, but I was wrong, Rung. I was wrong.” He buried his faceplates again. 

“This is not your fault, Optimus.” Rung quietly reminded him. “You did not hurt Starscream, in any way. What happened in this past is not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.” Optimus pressed his servo to his lipplates. “I could have stopped it. I could have stopped everything earlier. I could have just ended things, but I had to be noble. I had to stick up for the unsaveable – when everyone else told me I was insane to care. And now look what’s happened. …What a fragging mess.”

Silence fell between them. Rung squeezed his shoulderplates. “Optimus. You mentioned before that everything you have built between you and Starscream was based on the fact that you make him feel safe. That he trusts you not to hurt him.”

Optimus nodded, listening.

“Consider that your very compassion which drove you to try and preserve Megatron’s life is a large part of that trust, and consider what killing Megatron earlier would have changed about that foundation.”

Optimus bowed his helm. “I know. But that doesn’t help as much as it should.”

“…Go on a drive, Optimus. And then go home. One day, you will be able to remember exactly why you stayed your servo. For now, let yourself feel these things. Be angry, but don’t lose yourself in that anger. And remind Starscream that I have room for more patients if he wishes to come.”

“I will try to press the issue, but I won’t force it.” Optimus stood and composed himself. “Thank you, Rung.” He left for the drive Rung had prescribed.

Starscream gently held his twins in his arms as Optimus came into their clinical room. Optimus was always quiet after a visit with Rung. This therapy business didn’t make much sense to the Seeker. Dragging up old pain was just a good way to hurt more. But it seemed to help the Convoy and that was enough for him.

Optimus leaned down and kissed him gently. “How was your day?”

“They passed oil.” Starscream nuzzled back, stroking the twin Seekerlets. “We can go home soon.”

“Good.” Optimus stroked their backs with his large digits. Impossibly careful with how he held them and touched their delicate plating. “I want you back where you’re comfortable as soon as possible.”

“I just want to tuck down beneath a blanket and pass out. This energy field is all well and good, but it’s just not as comforting.”

Optimus reached into his subspace and brought out a claw-woven blanket. “Something like this?” He tucked it around Starscream – a piece of his own handiwork. 

“Perfect.” Starscream sighed contentedly and leaned into him. “You really are far too wonderful for this world…”

Optimus kissed his helm. “I’ll watch over them if you need some recharge.”

“Please.” Starscream curled into his lap and let him hold his son and daughter. “I could use a nap. Thank you.”

Optimus nuzzled Rigel and Dawnseer in turn. “No, thank you.” He held his children carefully.


End file.
